Page 113 of It's Always Been You
“A psychiatrist,” I say, scanning the room absentmindedly.
“Nice. I bet you’re a great communicator.” She bumps my arm with her elbow. “Every woman’s fantasy.”
Ha. The irony of that.
“Hardly,” I admit. She bats her thick false lashes a little too hard in response, her grin widening. Admittedly, she’s pretty, and she would have been my type with her blonde hair, warm skin, and flirty eyes. But when I look at her, I feel nothing. No attraction. No interest. No intrigue.
I haven’t wanted anyone else from the moment I saw Evie in her wedding gown.
“I’m an accountant,” Alison adds. Or was it Angela?
“Oh, yeah?” I say, taking another swig of my drink. “That’s interesting.”
“Oh, now Iknowyou’re not interested.”
I laugh and give her an apologetic look. “I’m sorry. I’m just . . .” I glance around the room again. Still no sign of Evie.
Alison’s eyes sweep the place. “Is she here tonight?”
“Who?”
“The girl you’re interested in?” She offers a knowing smile as she leans toward me. “You haven’t stopped searching for her since you got here.”
Surprised, I turn to her. “You’ve been watching me?”
“Oh, yeah,” she says, unrepentant as she leans back and gives me an appreciative look. “I clocked you as soon as I walked in. I asked Cramer to introduce me.”
I laugh. Yeah, she would have been my type. Bold. Outgoing. Witty.
“So, are you together?”
“As in a couple? No. It’s . . . complicated.”
“Is she an ex?”
I study the bottom of my empty glass. “Kind of.”
“Aw,” she croons, resting her hand on top of mine. I pull away immediately, more disgusted by her simple, friendly touch than what’s probably appropriate. I just don’t need any more drama in my life right now. “Do you need me to help you make her jealous? See what she’s missing?” She wags her brows.
I smirk despite myself. “Best not. She’d chop my head off if she saw me flirting with another woman.”
“So, she’s feisty, is she? Is that your type?” She drops her chin into her hand and flutters her eyelashes again. “I know I’m only an accountant, but I can be feisty, too. Just say the word.”
I roll my eyes. “Evie is . . .” I look around again. “Yes, she’s feisty. But she’s sweet, too.”When you treat her right. . .“She’s the love of my life.”
Alison’s brows lift. “Oh. Wow. Far be it from me to be the other woman.” She lifts her hands in surrender. “I am gracefully bowing out.”
I give her a dubious look, and she winks. “But just say the word, friend, and I’m happy to help.”
“No, thanks,” I say firmly, glancing over her shoulder again.
And there she is.
Adam guides Evie toward the bar, where he lifts his hand to grab the bartender’s attention. Alison notices my preoccupation and glances over her shoulder. She whips back around and jabs her thumb in Evie’s direction. “Is that her?” she mouths.
I nod tersely.
Alison stands, and I go rigid when she wraps her arm around my shoulder. “Play along,” she whispers in my ear. “Trust me.”
